Chapter 7 - The Pier Where Everything Began
Pier 17 wasn't where the old shipping company had operated.
I learned that within an hour.
The waterfront had changed too much.
Warehouses had become restaurants.
Industrial lots had become expensive apartments.
And almost every physical trace of the business my father had known was gone.
But the shipping records remained.
That was what Detective Shaw told me when I showed her the message.
She didn't look surprised.
That frightened me.
"You know something."
She studied the screen.
"I'm investigating."
"That's not an answer."
"Miss Bennett, I can't discuss every lead."
"Then tell me whether my family is in danger."
Her expression hardened.
"I believe the threats are credible."
I felt sick.
"Then what happens now?"
"We can discuss protective measures."
"What kind?"
"Temporary relocation, patrol coordination, and a formal threat assessment."
"Who pays for relocation?"
"We'll address that."
I laughed bitterly.
"That means nobody knows."
She didn't deny it.
Then she asked something unexpected.
"Have you spoken to Dominic Rinaldi since last night?"
"No."
"Good."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because I don't yet know who inside his organization can be trusted."
Two hours later, Dominic called me.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered the photograph.
The letter.
Pier 17.
I answered.
"Mr. Rinaldi."
"Mara."
His voice sounded exhausted.
"I've just learned that your father worked with mine."
I closed my eyes.
"How?"
"The police asked my attorney for historical records."
"Did you know?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
A pause.
"That's a fair question."
"Then answer it."
"I knew Thomas Bennett's name."
My stomach dropped.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"From where?"
"My father's files."
"What files?"
"Documents concerning a shipping subsidiary that collapsed twenty years ago."
"Did you know he had a daughter?"
"No."
"Did you know he was dead?"
"Not until this morning."
I gripped the phone.
"Then why did my father warn me about you?"
Silence.
Dominic finally spoke.
"Because he had every reason to distrust my family."
I sat down.
"Explain."
"My father built his fortune through legitimate construction and logistics companies."
"Your uncle Vittorio managed the international shipping arm."
"At first, my father trusted him."
"And then?"
"Money disappeared."
"How much?"
"More than forty million dollars."
I closed my eyes.
"Vittorio blamed the employees."
"Including my father?"
"Possibly."
"That's not good enough."
"No."
Dominic exhaled.
"But it's the truth."
I could hear traffic in the background.
He wasn't in an office.
"Where are you?"
"At a warehouse in Brooklyn."
I went still.
"Why?"
"Because one of my father's old storage companies still keeps archived shipping records."
"Is this connected to Pier 17?"
"Yes."
I stood.
"Dominic."
"What?"
"Someone sent me a message about that pier."
He went silent.
"Read it."
I did.
His breathing changed.
Then he said, "Mara, do not go there."
"Why?"
"Because Pier 17 is where Antonio Rinaldi died."
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"I thought your father died in a car accident."
"He did."
"At the pier?"
"His car left the access road and struck a barrier."
"Was he alone?"
A long silence.
"No."
"Who was with him?"
Dominic took a breath.
"My uncle."
I closed my eyes.
"Did Vittorio survive?"
"Without a scratch."
My pulse began pounding.
"Was your father investigating the missing money?"
"Yes."
"And my father?"
"Thomas Bennett was scheduled to meet him that night."
I couldn't speak.
Dominic continued.
"He never arrived."
"Why?"
"That's what I've spent twenty years trying to understand."
For several seconds, we listened to each other breathe.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"Do you think my father knew your father was going to be killed?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
"I think my father was about to expose something."
"And your father died."
"Yes."
"And mine spent the rest of his life afraid."
"Yes."
I covered my face.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because your father's records may be the missing piece."
"And because you need me to translate another document."
"No."
His response was immediate.
"I need you alive."
Something in his voice made me believe him.
Not completely.
But enough to listen.
Then Dominic said, "There's something else."
"What?"
"The warehouse records include an employee payment ledger."
"Okay."
"Your father's name appears in it."
I felt my throat tighten.
"How many times?"
"Twenty-six."
"For what?"
"Consulting fees."
"How much?"
"Small amounts at first."
"And later?"
Dominic paused.
"The last payment was for four hundred and eighty thousand dollars."
My mouth fell open.
"That's impossible."
"It's documented."
"My father never had that kind of money."
"I know."
"Then where did it go?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
I stared at the kitchen wall.
Then I heard a door close on his end.
Dominic stopped talking.
"Dominic?"
Silence.
"Dominic?"
A second voice came through the phone.
Male.
Older.
Calm.
"Hello, Mara."
My blood turned cold.
"Who is this?"
The man chuckled softly.
May you like
"Your father had your eyes."
Then the call ended.
